


gravedigger

by IsleofSolitude



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: based on that scene from 4x06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 08:11:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17956859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsleofSolitude/pseuds/IsleofSolitude
Summary: Quentin vs the Monster, in 4x06





	gravedigger

**Author's Note:**

> You can break me down if it takes all your might  
> Because I'm so much more than all your lies  
> \---Seether

The moment the monster’s fingers—Eliot’s fingers—touched his face, Quentin felt his anger flickering, competing against the remembrance of Eliot stroking his cheek a million times. His hands had always been soft, except for the very tips, and Quentin never quite could catch his breath while that touch lingered.

He could breathe now, though. Eliot, who even in his lowest breakdown point, had never quite reeked as the monster had let him get. The fingers touching him tightened, and it was Eliot’s fingers but it was _wrong wrong wrong_ , just like the words---“You’re weak” were so wrong.

_Eliot tracing patterns on Quentin’s back as they lay under the stars—That’s just the shitty part of your brain, Q, you know you can’t listen to it. You’re so strong, love, just stay here and rest until you believe it._

_The younger man snorted, angling his head to look back—Yeah, if I’m so strong then why are you the one who can actually lift?_

_Quentin—punctuated by a kiss on his shoulder, a constellation etched with a tongue—you know that’s not what matters. You’ve got it where it counts. Me? Shoot me, cut my hair, break my bones, and I’ll give up in a heartbeat._

“Break my bones…” Quentin bit out, as those long fingers tightened around his jaw, his throat, a warning to be silenced. He felt his anger, his disgust flicker brightly as they pushed down on him. “And strangle me.”

His reflection had been in those eyes countless times, until he wasn’t sure sometimes if Eliot’s soul or his soul were shown there, or if they were even the same shared thing. But now, he saw only himself—no love reflected back, no friendship or humor or fondness or exasperation behing those eyes.

Just a monster being strangled.

There was nothing but cold. “Too tired to care anymore.” Quentin blinked, and remembered. Leaning forward as much as the clammy hands allowed, he put every ounce of truth in his voice he could. “You hurt him…”

_Quentin rolled over and pulled Eliot down with him—You aren’t allowed to give up, okay? I’ll carry you for as long as you carry me, okay?_

_Eliot traced his lover’s face, smiling when the other man leaned into the caress—Together we’ll deal? Sounds fair to me._

Quentin took every emotion he had and buried it deep down, letting it ignite his soul. “You take one more pill and you build your body on your own.” The fingers shifted, preparing for a better grip, one that would choke the life from him. He stared at the monster, stared at the unkempt hair and the sickly pallor, and smelt the rank breath and sweat, and felt feverish.

Eliot was alive, and Quentin was going to get him back.


End file.
